Fences- [Ranboo Angst]

★Chapter Two ★

6 am.

A time when most people Ranboo knew were either still fast asleep, or just now stirring themselves awake. But they themself had long since stopped trying to sleep, so the incessant drone of the alarm was entirely unnecessary, serving only to remind him of yet another sleepless night.

The world was still eerily quiet, but if you strained your ears the groan of morning traffic could still be heard, breaking all illusions of peace.

Ranboo coughed sharply and sat up in bed. The room only looked messier in the daylight, and he couldn't help but notice the piles of plates and heaped up clothes.

Despite how early it was - school didn't start for almost two more hours - Ranboo was already digging around in the discarded clothes for their uniform. It wasn't that he was excited to leave, in fact they barely had the energy to drag himself our of bed, but that the earlier they left the less chance there was anyone else would be awake.

Nobody was around when he left his room. The bathroom was cold at this time in the morning and the splash of water, intended to wake them up, made it no better.

He ran his fingers through his hair on the way downstairs, trying to make some improvement on the tangled mess. Their breath tasted awful, but there was nothing they could do about it at this point. Just try not to talk too close to anyone, they supposed.

It was only quarter past six when Ranboo left for school, the icy autumn wind cutting at his face. The street was cold and grey, with all the sullen nihilism of decaying post-war architecture. Wind whistled through the splintered plexiglass in the bus stop windows and Ranboo pulled their blazer tighter around himself.

As they turned a corner, Ranboo set his eyes on a run down looking corner shop. It looked in desperate need of redecoration, the windows plastered with yellowing, sun bleached posters.

But despite the dilapidated appearance, the rush of warm air as Ranboo entered the shop was more than welcome. It was emitted from a choking heater in the entrance, which appeared to be held together mostly by duct tape and rust.

He resisted the urge to warm his hands in front of the heater. After all, it did look worryingly like it was going to explode, and what they wanted wasn't over there anyway.

He placed a single can of monster on the counter, digging around in his pocket for spare change.

"Oh, and some of those," they said, gesturing back at a pile of cigarettes stacked behind the counter.

The man on the till looked up as he said that. He looked Ranboo up and down, focusing on the very obvious school uniform. Slowly, he let out a reluctant sigh and placed those too on the counter.

"I shouldn't really let you buy these but-" -he sighed again, a shorter, sharper sigh- "- business is business. Can I ask, out of... Curiosity, how old are you?"

And with that, the man turned to the till and began scanning the items.

Ranboo was startled, but pleasantly so. It had been a long time since someone had so much as asked them the time of day, so they complied with the man's question.

"Sixteen? Why do you-"

"That'd be five pounds eighty please."

"What?" Ranboo said, surprised at the sudden interjection.

"I said, that'd be five pounds eighty. You know, like money?"

His tone was sarcastic, and Ranboo already felt his cheeks turning red in embarrassment and shame. He counted out the money from the change in his hand into the correct amount and placed it down silently.

The man huffed as he counted out the money, gesturing for Ranboo to take their stuff and leave as soon as he was sure it was the right amount.

It was stupid, but for a second the prospect of a genuine friendly conversation had seemed so inviting that a spark had set off in his heart. Now it was stamped out on the floor for no good reason, and they felt just as empty as before.

They approached the same bus stop again (with fifteen minutes to spare) and this time chose to sit on the discoloured plastic seat.

He pulled out the cigarettes and a cheap bic lighter and placed them on the seat. Then they rolled one up, taking slow, deliberate actions with their fingers stiff from cold. Finally, he tried- and failed- to light it up, swearing under his breath every time the wind blew the flame out.

On the third or fourth try it finally lit up and they took a long drag. Then he just buried his head in his hands, and waited for the bus.